by Mark Goodwin
“Yes, Jim, there is. I’m picking up my last load tomorrow morning. I’d love to bring it down to Sevierville if you can make a place for me, my wife, and my son.”
“Full tanker of gas?”
“Yep.”
Jim looked around the room to see the anxious nods from Noah and the others. “I think we can find a spot for good folks like you to lay your head.”
“Thanks, but I’d need assurances that we’ll have enough to eat as well. Understand that I’m not looking for a handout; we’ll work. We’ll work hard, but this load is all I really have to leverage a position for my family. Don’t do it out of charity. I’ve got a couple other towns that I know would take me up on the offer, but I wanted to call you first. I like all the folks in your group that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I know my family would be happy there.”
Jim keyed the mic. “We’d be honored to have you. And it’s not charity. We are flat dry on gasoline. The Lord’s timing couldn’t have been better.”
“Good to hear. I should be there by Thursday evening.”
“Okay, God bless and have a safe trip.” Jim looked around at the rest of the group standing in the room. “I wouldn’t have even known to pray for such a miracle. All glory to God on this one.”
Noah nodded. “Amen.”
Elliot said, “God is right on time. Now, can someone give me a hand? We brought a few items from the sheriff’s department that need to come in the house.”
Everyone but David and Benny volunteered. David stayed put because his leg was still on the mend, and Benny still had another twenty minutes worth of battery before he had to hang up the radio for the evening.
Noah recognized several of the old beat up guns from the evidence room. “Planning to sell these at the Kettle?”
Jim picked a few of them up out of the bed of the truck. “Probably not. We want to get them cleaned up and make sure they are all in good working condition in case we need them for the militia.”
“I hope we’ve got enough folks in town to build a good militia.” Noah grabbed several firearms and followed Jim up the stairs into the house. “Part of the problem is that we’ve been short on pastors telling their flocks to get ready for this. People who took the time to prepare, even the smallest bit, are in a better position to tell the UN where they can stick that Global Republic identification number. I’m sure a lot of church folks are going to take the Mark because they are starving to death.”
Elliot followed close behind with another load of guns. “If they even offer the Mark here in America. Sounds like they’d be happier if we’d all just die off.”
Jim winked as he carefully placed the long guns against the wall in the kitchen. “We ain’t dying just yet. As a matter of fact, the longer they leave us old country boys alone, the stronger we’ll get. I don’t think Luz counted on that.”
Noah sat the pistols on the table and leaned a shotgun near the guns Jim had brought in. “If we can hang on till spring, we can really turn the tables on the New World Order. Or at least give them a good run for their money.”
The next morning, Noah, Kevin, and Sarah headed out to see who they could make contact with. They would be stopping by the homes and known meeting locations of the people who had participated in the liberation campaign at the University of Tennessee detention camps.
The first stop was the Sevier County branch of the Tennessee Wildlife Resource Agency. Sarah jumped out of the truck and tried the door. “Nobody’s home.”
Kevin looked around. “They could be in one of the outbuildings. Let’s check over in maintenance.”
The group walked back behind the main office about fifty yards to a large metal structure. Sarah shook the lock on the chain to see if it was really locked. “No dice.”
Kevin looked from side to side. “I might have a key.”
Sarah lowered her eyebrows. “Really?”
Kevin pulled his .45, took aim, and pulled the trigger. PLINK! Fragments of the mangled lock still hung from the chain around the handle. He winked at Noah.
“Good job. Now, how are you going to lock it back so thieves don’t get in here?” Sarah stood with her hands on her hips.
Kevin removed the remnants of the lock and tossed it to the side. “I’ll figure something out.”
After Kevin pulled the chain off, Noah slid the heavy metal door to the side. “What are we looking for?”
“Gas. We don’t have enough to run all over town looking for people who may or may not be interested in participating in an insurrection against the biggest global empire in the history of mankind.
“Ah, boats! Just what I was hoping for.” Kevin led the way over to several boats that were in the process of having work done on them.
Noah followed him. “Wow. What size tank is that?”
Kevin lifted the tank out. “Twelve-gallon. Feels like it’s about a third of the way full.”
Sarah found a dolly and pushed it over to the boats. “Load me up.”
Kevin set the tank on the dolly. “That’s a start. Let’s check out that center console over there.”
Noah followed Kevin over to a much larger boat. “What size tank do you think it has?
“I’m not sure. Maybe ninety, but I doubt it’s full.”
“If it’s a ninety-gallon tank, it wouldn’t have to be,” Noah replied.
Kevin jumped up on the boat and opened the cap. “We’ve got gas. Now we need to find a length of hose and flip a coin to see who gets the honors of siphoning it out.”
Noah crinkled his nose at the thought. He pulled a quarter out of his pocket. “Heads or tails?”
“Tails.”
Noah flipped the coin in the air and caught it. “Heads!”
“Let me see it!” Kevin demanded.
Noah tried not to laugh as he showed his unfortunate friend the coin. “I wouldn’t lie to you, bro.”
Kevin scowled as he looked around for a length of rubber hose to stick in the tank. He located a long plastic tube. “This thing is filthy, but I guess it will have to work.”
Sarah walked up with a hand-crank pump and winked at Noah while she silently watched Kevin fuss over the nasty task. “Hey, sailor. Want me to do that for you?”
“No thanks. Then I still have to smell gas when I kiss you,” Kevin joked.
“Don’t expect me to be kissing you if you get gas in your mouth.”
“Oh really!” Kevin turned to look at her.
She grinned from ear to ear and held the hand-crank pump up for him to see.
“You are terrible!” Kevin took the pump from her and began pumping gas into the twelve-gallon can from the first boat. “Go pump that into the truck and bring it back. We’ll fill up the truck and top off the can for a backup.”
“Got it.” Noah pushed the dolly, and Sarah followed him with the hand-crank pump.
Sarah opened the cap and held the hose in the tank while Noah turned the crank. “Go for it.”
Once they had all the fuel they needed, Kevin located an old lock laying on the workbench and secured the chain on the door as they left.
“And who has the key to that, smart aleck?” Sarah chided.
Kevin put his hand on the butt of his pistol. “I do.”
They returned to the truck and headed back out to round up a militia.
Kevin pulled back out onto the main road. “Kyle Harding’s place is nearby. We can stop there next.”
Minutes later, they pulled up to a small farm house. They all exited the vehicle cautiously.
“I can feel eyes on us from the tree line. I think we came to the right spot.” Sarah slowly followed Kevin to the porch.
An older man’s voice called out from the upstairs window. “That’s close enough. State your business.”
Kevin put his hands up. “I’m looking for Kyle Harding. I worked with him at the sheriff’s department before the crash; my name is Kevin.”
The voice called back. “Kyle isn’t here. Turn around and go back to your veh
icle.”
Noah followed Kevin’s lead and held his hands in the air to make sure the occupants weren’t threatened. He looked to Sarah at his side and whispered, “What should we do?”
Sarah rested her hands behind her neck and shrugged.
Kevin called back to the man, “Okay, but if you see Kyle, can you let him know that I’ll be at the Country Kettle all day tomorrow? I’d like to catch up on old times if he can get by. We’re setting up a trading post at the Kettle. Everyone is welcome.”
The man didn’t answer, so Kevin slowly walked back toward the truck. Sarah and Noah followed close behind.
Once they were in the truck and back on the road, Sarah leaned forward from the back seat. “Looks like we’re just wasting gas at this point. I don’t think we’re meant to raise an insurgency today.”
Kevin kept his eyes on the road. “We might not have gotten the welcome wagon at Kyle’s, but he’ll be by the Kettle tomorrow, and I’ve got a feeling he is still in touch with a bunch of the guys from the department. I spotted two observation posts in the woods. He’s got a well-organized team guarding that house.”
Sarah let her arm hang over the front seat. “They had great security. I hope you’re right about them turning up. They’d make a good addition to the militia.”
Noah turned to Kevin. “We should stop by Pastor Mike’s house. He has probably stayed in contact with most of the home Bible study groups since the crash. He can help us get the word out and maybe tell us where to look for guys who are ready to fight.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Kevin followed Noah’s directions to Pastor Mike’s.
When they arrived at Pastor Mike’s subdivision, they were stopped by a roadblock. Three men with a variety of shotguns and hunting rifles manned the entrance to the street, which was obstructed by two pickup trucks parked bumper to bumper. One of the men wore a military camo pattern, another wore a camo pattern that closely matched the woods of Eastern Tennessee, and the third had on a black coat and blue jeans.
The man in jeans walked up to the driver’s side. “Howdy. Can I help you?”
Noah looked across from the passenger’s side of the truck. “Yes, sir. We are here to see Pastor Mike Barnes. He lives on Willow Drive.”
“I’ll have to call the runner on the radio and have him send Mr. Barnes up here to verify that he knows you. I’m sure you understand the need for increased security. What’s your name?”
“You’re preaching to the choir. I’m glad to see the folks in your neighborhood looking out for one another. My name is Noah Parker; my friends are Sarah and Kevin.”
The man smiled. “Be right back.” He walked back toward the other guards and called over the handheld radio. Seconds later he walked back up to the truck. “The runner is on his way. Might be a few minutes; we appreciate your patience.”
“No problem at all.” Noah put his hand up briefly to show his appreciation. “It’s nice to see a roadblock manned by such polite folks.”
The man chuckled. “Just because the world came to an end doesn’t mean we have to be nasty to each other. Nobody likes the situation, but we all have to get along. I think that requires us to be cordial whenever possible. Of course, we can generally tell when someone is up to no good. My name is Danny, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Danny.” Noah gave him a nod. “We’re trying to set up a trading post over at the old Country Kettle starting tomorrow. Everyone is welcome. I’m not sure what we will have, but we want to do our part to try to form a local economy.”
Danny rubbed his chin as he listened. “If I can break free for an hour or two, I’ll try to stop by tomorrow. It’d be nice to get out for a while. We’ve been cooped up in the neighborhood for weeks. That’s a good thing you’re doing. It’s our understanding that no one will be able to buy anything without taking the UN pledge and getting their number. Most of us have decided we ain’t taking it, no matter what. Who is heading up the effort to set up a trading post?”
“Sheriff Jim Taylor,” Kevin answered.
“Oh, is he back? We’ve heard all sorts of rumors since that incident in Knoxville. Some folks said DHS gunned him down along with some of his men, others said he was on the lam, and others said he was captured. At any rate, the folks around here think mighty highly of him and that bunch who raided that detention camp. They’re sort of like urban legend heroes.”
Noah tried not to let his emotions show, but he couldn’t hold back a small grin.
Evidently, Danny caught it. “Wait a minute. Were you fellows involved in the fireworks?”
Kevin glanced over at Noah. “Let’s say we’re good friends with the sheriff, and leave it at that.”
Danny nodded quietly. He looked as if he was honored to have made their acquaintance. He looked over toward the other two men then turned his attention back to Noah. “You know, if the UN comes around here with that Global Republic garbage, there are a bunch of us who ain’t going to roll over on our backs like trained dogs. I know we might not have much of a chance, but we’re ready to fight.”
Noah looked deep into the man’s eyes. He meant what he was saying. “You make sure you get by the Kettle tomorrow. We’ll talk a little more about that.”
“I’ll be there.”
Mike Barnes arrived and called out. “Noah, it’s so good to see you’re doing okay. How is everyone else?”
“Hop in and we’ll drive you back to your house. I’ll tell you all about it on the way.”
The two pickups rolled back out of the way so Kevin could drive through.
Pastor Mike got in the back, next to Sarah. Noah made the introductions then began filling the pastor in on things. “Isaiah was killed during the retreat. Everyone else is fine. David was hit in the leg, but he’s walking on it now and doing pretty good. Our group has been up in the mountains since before Christmas.”
“I hate to hear that about Isaiah.” Pastor Mike’s voice conveyed his sorrow. He took a deep breath and sighed. “We’ve been praying for you all every morning. I’m glad the rest of you are alright. Are Cassie and the rest of the gals back?”
“No, they are staying in the mountains for another week or two. We wanted to get the sheriff’s department back up and running before they come home. But I must say, it looks like your little neighborhood is getting along fine.”
“Well, we are now. We had to learn the hard way. We had two late-night home invasions, one on my street, before we formed the block watchmen. Just the presence of a patrol has been enough to deter further incidents so far.”
Kevin looked at Pastor Mike through the rearview. “Yep. Typically, predators will look for a soft target. That rule usually applies in the animal kingdom as well as the human world. It’s always better to be a tough nut than a marshmallow.”
When they pulled into the drive, Noah opened his door. “Are you staying in contact with the other home fellowships?”
Pastor Mike got out and shut his door. “We are, as much as possible anyway. We try to walk to the homes that are near. Sam Chatfield comes by with his horses and wagon on Wednesdays and takes us to a different group each week. That allows us to see folks who are farther out.”
Sarah chuckled. “That’s so cool. Was that a hobby of his before the crash?”
The pastor shook his head. “No, he rigged up a hitch on the wagon that he used with his tractor. It worked pretty well, except for stopping, so he had to set up brake system. He’s an ingenuitive fellow.”
Mrs. Barnes came out on the porch. “Noah, how good to see you.”
“Hello, Lynn.” Noah was glad to see her, but he wasn’t looking forward to retelling the story of Isaiah’s death.
They went inside, and Lynn Barnes broke down in tears at the terrible news. After a short time of mourning, Noah took out a pen and pad to record the times and locations of the other home fellowships. Pastor Mike agreed to spread the word of the militia and the trading posts to the local groups that he could reach on foot so Noah could focus on r
eaching the ones farther out.
As much as he wanted to visit all day with the Barnes family, he still had several other stops, so Noah was forced to cut the conversation short. “Pastor Mike, as soon as you see Sam, could you ask him to come by the Kettle. Since he is one of the few people who is still able to travel, he’s probably a good source of local intelligence.”
Lynn smiled. “Indeed he is. He talks to several other people who have horses and can travel regularly. They exchange news and do what they can to pass it along. I hope we can get by the Kettle soon. I’m sure it will turn into a hub for exchanging information about what’s happening around town. Don’t leave without taking some corn meal.”
Noah put his hand up. “I can’t take that. Keep it for yourselves. We have the ability to grow food out at David’s. You don’t have much of a yard for a garden.”
Lynn grabbed his hands and placed the bag of meal between them. “We tell folks that we don’t need a thing, but everywhere we go, someone is forcing food on us. Especially cornmeal.”
Noah smiled and looked down at the simple paper bag. “Okay. But why cornmeal?”
A lot of the farmers around here grow fields and fields of corn for cattle. It’s not the best quality corn, but it sure beats an empty belly.”
Sarah examined the bag. “That’s great, but what will they feed the cattle?”
Pastor Barnes explained. “The farmers shell off the dried corn but still feed the cobs, husks, and stalks to the cows. Normally, it would all be ground up together for feed. Since there’s a power shortage for grinding feed, most farmers are hand chopping the cobs and stalks with machetes or whatever they can find.”
Kevin had a curious expression on his face. “But how is it being ground into meal without grinders?”
Lynn took the bag back from Noah and opened it to show the contents to Kevin. “Some people are using old fashioned coffee grinders; others have rigged up grinders using two bricks. This batch was ground with an old grinding wheel being turned by a mule. None of it comes out very fine. It actually works better as grits than it does for cornbread. But it’s available and people are able to eat.”